#tw: death threats

[untoldsoup]

This is Chapter Three part TWO! Please read chapters one, two and 3 (part one) FIRST!

Note: any derogatory comments about Mario being a little person will get deleted and you will be blocked.

PLEASE READ TAGS

Tags: tw:cartoon violence /tw:(mild) body horror/ tw:blood/ tw: injuries/ tw: minor character in danger/ tw: verbal abuse of a minor character/ tw: manipulation/ tw: major character death/ tw: minor character death/ tw:death threats

So happy I managed to get this update out on schedule. Thank you all for being patient waiting two months between updates, these pages take time! Anyway, this is the end of the flash back, we will be back to the present with the next chapter! And well, things are heating up, as you can see :)

I spent a lot of time on this, so if you like it, let me know! thank you all for reading :)

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Previous: chapter 3(part 1)

Next: chapter four part one

Start from the beginning Here!

This is a sequel, please read "Change" comic first!

[comatosebunny09]

It’s wild. I left the RE fandom earlier this year, jumping ship to LADS because there was so much discourse and a whole witch hunt in the former fandom. If you wrote, supported, or ignored dark content, you were attacked for encouraging your peers to pursue their creative outlets. Dark content is always under a microscope, so it’s very easy to spot similarities, especially across fandoms.

Plagiarism is illegal. It will never be okay to capitalize on someone else’s work. For many of us, writing is a labor of love. Sometimes, we spend months or even years coming up with stories. It’s disheartening to see something you poured your soul into (regardless of the subject matter) stolen and receiving more engagement than the original.

Everything eventually comes to light. You never know which of your followers come from the same fandom(s) as you. Tumblr has such a condensed community that everyone’s interests eventually overlap, no matter how niche. Hell, a number of my followers journeyed with me from like, four other fandoms to LADS.

In essence, let’s grow from this experience. The death threats and suicide baiting are uncalled for. That shit is unacceptable. But the best way to overcome this is to own up to your misdeeds and apologize.

Sincerely. Openly. Apologize to your followers for misleading them, the writers you hurt by stealing from them, and the individuals you attacked or weaponized your followers against.

Use your platform to call attention to the talented writers you copy-pasted. Step back to take care of yourself and improve your mental health. Come back later when you’ve taken time to reflect and try again, this time without cashing in on someone else’s efforts.

And to the people who support plagiarism for the sake of you getting your rocks off with an update, go ahead and block me right tf now. The fact that you continue to support a person who blatantly steals from other artists and carries on as if all is right in the world is disgusting, and I don’t want to be associated with that.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1293

CW: death threats, near-death experience, implied past character death.

"Do I have your attention now?" the villain questioned with a smile that threatened to sour on a dime, their gun held against Civilian's head. The civilian, already knocked out from the explosion, couldn't even stiffen in fear. "Or must I crack open such a precious skull before you start listening?"

The hero, for once in their life, had no witty comeback or quip. That was their lover in Villain's grasp, their everything. Hero stood tense, ready to rush forward, and yet too petrified to move.

Was this what the villain had felt like all those years ago when Hero had let their partner fall?

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[goldenmechanicalheart]

Kys

[rinashinki]

say what you will but that one anon Eruri hater has got way too much time on their hands. Imagine going into a fic to spam hate comments and death threats, realising you can't leave guest comments, then making the effort to go to another fic of the author that's unrelated to the ship or pairing to send death threats.

All cause you don't like this ship 😐

Can ya just leave me the fuck alone and lemme write my old men yaoi is peace lmfao

[poorlydrawnkankri]

Kankri, what do you prefer, a death threat or someone making advances on you?

I am already dead, I died a millennia's w9rth 9f m99ns ag9 S9 t9 make such a threat w9uld mean n9thing unless made 6y the L9rd E. himself.

H9WEVER I D9 N9T C9ND9NE DEATH THREATS, if y9u c9nduct such 6ehavi9rs I will 9nly perceive y9u with gander6ul6s full 9f disapp9intment, 6ut I rather s9me9ne make an empty threat than s9licited me despite the fact I am celi6ate.

[ninja-confession-go]

dont be shy mod show us the transmed rant i want to laugh at them...

it is long gone into the realm of death and trash and even then i would not show it because this is not the place for this conversation. also i am against laughing at people. except that one time someone sent "all jaya shippers kys" or something of that sort that one was funny i think yall should laugh at that ed: i found a screenshot of this cause i shared it with my friend since i was so baffled about it

[ghost-malone]

Death threats are so genuinely insane to me. Like what has to go through your mind to think that's a sensible response to something that has upset you online. I know it's mostly severely mentally ill people or children (because no one with a fairly developed brain would ever think that response even makes sense) but I can't wrap my head around it.

You see it on YouTube and tiktok and you sure as shit see it here too and it's so ridiculously baffling, and to those of us who aren't in a particularly fragile state, absolutely laughable.

What goes through your head? Do you think you're doing The Lord's Work or fighting what you perceive as unrighteous? Do you want to lash out to feel powerful or like your opinion matters? Or are you just angry and waiting for someone online to do something that others object to, thus giving you opportunity and reason to hide in an angry mob and validate your need to.... threaten death?

I dunno, genuinely don't get it. No one normal gets it babe, what are you doing?

[paddockpatrol]

The Female Drive on IG

Firstly, if you reblog this, please don't tag it with hate towards any drivers or their fan bases; that would be the complete opposite of what the original post is trying to do. It is never an entire fan base that acts out of line, but rather individuals within them.

Secondly, this isn't even really meant as a post about Max Verstappen, though he is the subject. Rather it's a post aiming to highlight how someone's feelings towards a (sports) celebrity can escalate. I doubt any of the authors of the quoted tweets started out with that level of vehemence towards Max, yet here we are. Rather I suspect their feelings escalated over time.

I decided to make this post because Drive to Survive 5 is about to drop and a new f1 season about to begin and passions/emotions will rise, mine included. In combination with has been happening with the tumblr polls over the past week, I am fearful of an even more toxic year in fandom than the past two. Moreover, I've seen too many people be dismissive of criticism of the hate polls towards Max and others. And while likely the creators of those hate polls in their minds were only having a bit of fun and would never think that they would ever write anything like the tweets above, I do wonder.... is that not where it starts?

To be clear, I am not saying the people behind those specific blogs ever would write something like the vile tweets above, but like a YouTube algorithm these things tend to spiral and we are all susceptible to the passionate craze sports can elicit.

So, ultimately this is a post asking all fans -and also very much myself- to consider that there are real people behind blogs (well maybe not the pornbots 😉) and that all the drivers definitely are very much human. There's nothing wrong with writing a heated post, but equally there is nothing wrong with keeping that post in the drafts until you've calmed down and considered what it would be like if you were the subject of your own writing.

Let's have a highly competitive but non-toxic year all. Can't wait for cars out in Bahrain.

[kuramirocket]

Tw: for death threats and suibaiting

Remind me again how antis are supposed to be good and morally superior people. This is not just "ship discourse." Antis literally target, bully, harass, stalk, doxx, and suibait proshippers over fictional content. Idc, how disgusting or distasteful you find some fictional content. This type of abusive behavior is never okay.

It's always antis I see with so much hate and violence. When proshippers talk about antis it's never with this much competent, anger or hate. There may be some bad apples as with all communities, but proshippers in general want to be left alone to enjoy their fandom and online experiences.

This is why people who view themselves "above" and more "mature" over the proship and anti "discourse" should actually learn about these communities and topics.

Antis are very abusive. There is multiple evidence of countless behavior such as the ones shown above. And they appear everyday in the proship tags (mostly due to tumblr's tagging system) but regardless, again, such pro violence and suibaiting is not okay.

It's not hard to just put a simple dni if it bothers you that much or just block and filter things and people. You will have to continuously do this and it's tiring I know. It happens to me all the time where things I may not want to see pop up. Just keep curating your internet experience. Do this without telling literal people and sometimes minors at that to literally kill themselves. If you spread so much verbal hate and pro violent rhetoric you're not the good person you think you are.

All these tags came from one anti post and all from different users. This really is just the normal abusive behavior from antis. Rarely, do they advocate to not harass other people or actually post anything helpful to actually protect people online such as this post I made:

[icycoldninja]

A great misunderstanding (Yandere Reno x Fem!reader angst)

Tw: Toxic behavior, yandere behavior, cursing, and death threats. No sexual themes, but there is a great deal of swearing, enough to deem this R rated. If you are a minor or are uncomfortable with these themes, DNI.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

"Where were you?" Reno demanded, voice sinister; eyes cold. You shivered in your chair, watching with fearful eyes as he crossed the room to glare down at you.

"I asked you a question, babe. I want it answered." You gulped, feeling your throat tighten and your mouth dry up.

"I was out, visiting some friends." This was the truth; you'd gone to visit a few girl friends and their brothers while Reno was at work and ended up getting stuck in traffic, thus arriving home late and incurring his wrath.

"Were you now?" He demanded, his playful voice having a sharp, steely edge to it. "And what friends were you out visiting?" He moved to stand directly in front of you, looming over you menacingly.

"Just a few girls....and-"

"And men?" Reno frowned, staring down at you with a face of displeasure. "I knew it." He grumbled, when you didn't respond. He cracked his knuckles and starting pacing back and forth in front of you. "You fucking whore. You were out, cheating on me!"

"Reno, that's not true," You protested, seeing that he was beginning to lose his temper. "You're misunder-"

"Not true?! Don't you lie to me, you goddamn fucking slut!" Reno picked up a nearby glass and threw it on the ground, shattering it. "You were out with men, men who were not me! You were being the goddamn slut you are--screwing around with bastards behind my back!"

"No, Reno! Calm down and let me explain-"

"Shut up! Shut up, you bitch! I don't need to hear your shitty excuses!" Reno turned and headed for the door, taking his Electro Mag Rod with him.

"Reno, wait, where are you going?!" You shouted, moving to follow him. Reno turned around, a sadistic, malicious glare in his eyes.

"I'm gonna find those friends of yours and teach them a lesson for dicking around with my girl." He tapped his weapon on his shoulder and grinned at you, baring his teeth in an almost animalistic manner before walking out the door, slamming it behind him.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1164

CW: blood, toxic relationships, death threats.

The concrete was rough beneath your hands, slick with the endless rain and fresh blood. The skin of your palms stung from the new scratches, but it was by far the least of your problems.

He was after you - the damn bastard you have given your heart to - was out for blood. His little goons were scampering around the city like rats, searching. And of course, you had nowhere to go… until now.

“My, my, darling. Your hubby’s in quite the mood tonight, isn’t he?” Just as you were taking a second to breathe and think, sitting in the back of a dingy alley, they just had to miraculously appear.

The leader of a rival gang, one of the biggest in the city.

You scrambled to your feet, snarling your teeth to try and hide your terror. “W-What do you want?!”

They leaned against the brick wall with a smirk, giving you a glimpse of the sleek black car waiting just behind them. “Oh, must I always want something? Can’t I just offer a pretty thing such as yourself some help~?”

Your expression twisted into an annoyed grimace. “Can you?”

Their smile grew sharp. “I’m not Lover, darling. I work differently.” The gang leader stood straight, offering you a hand. “So~?”

Somewhere in the distance, shouting and gunshots echoed through the air. The noise made you cringe, and with no other options left, you shakily took their hand. The rival leader practically purred, pulling you into the car.

And as you hid behind the tinted windows, a sigh of relief left your lips. You spoke quietly, side-eyeing them. “...Thank you…”

“You’re welcome, darling~.”

[coockie8]

You know when something is just so buck fucking wild that you can't do anything but laugh?

That's me when antis will send me like entire novels worth of asks describing, in gory detail, exactly how they want to rape and murder me. How they want to cook me alive, and make me watch while they gut me. Over the fan fiction I write.

I'm not joking when I say I've actually used some of these asks as inspiration for my fics, because sometimes I can't come up with anything that comes anywhere near the level of fucked up of the things they fantasize about doing to me, a real human being.

Like damn, at least I'm just talking about pulling the fake limbs off a cartoon guy, while antis are out here, foaming at the mouth, having legitimate serial killer fantasies about some random online stranger who wrote/drew some fiction they dislike. And then sending those fantasies to that stranger!

But I'm the dangerous and unhinged one.

Somehow.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

X-20's Final Assignment

Surface Agent X-20 is replaced by a ‘more reliable’ agent. On his first mission as the mysterious new surface agent’s subordinate, X-20 encounters complications – and Titan has already warned him that he will not 'fix up' X-20’s mistakes anymore.

Whumptober 2024 prompt. Day 3 SET UP FOR FAILURE: fingerprints | wrongfully arrested| “I warned you”

Warning: This story deals with a character who is enslaved, and a who is subjected to death threats. If these are sensitive topics for you, please take this into account before reading.

Surface Agent X-20 trembled in Titan’s antechamber.

As the marine minutes dripped away and there was no command to enter the throne room, X-20’s anxiety increased. Trembling gave way to hand-wringing, hand-wringing to pacing, and pacing was joined first by hand-wringing, and then by whimpering.

Titan was like the mighty trans-ocean currents that could sweep the unwary from their homes to the distant seas. And that was to his own people. For a member of one of the other undersea races, and a slave at that, Titan was nothing less than the bringer of death.

And that death could come in myriad forms: the tortures of the lobster rack, the fire coral, the swordfish chamber, or the dreaded death of a thousand stings. Or even worse: to be set to dry.

That was part of X-20s punishment as Surface Agent: to be forced to live above the seas. Titan allowed him limited access to the life giving waters of the ocean, and the relief of times like this, summoned to the depths of the undersea world, was off-set by the torture of the fear that an audience invariably brought. Was this the time Titan was finally going to order his death?

Titan’s Surface Agents rarely liked long lives. Ordered to the dry world of the Terraneans, to act as Titan’s eyes, ears and hands among them. Most died quickly, either from drying, or discovered and killed by the Terraneans. Or executed by Titan.

X-20 had lasted longer than any other Surface Agent assigned to the Island of Lemoy, so close to Marineville and it’s submarine fleet. Not that Titan saw it like that. X-20’s plans never seemed to succeed, but he got closer to success than any others, and that fact alone kept him alive.

But there was always the risk that today was the day that Titan’s patience – as short-lived and fickle as it was – would run out.

Or that Titan would consult Teufel – his false god – and he would be condemned by the random actions of the enormous fish.

It was a more than a few marine hours before the Aquaphibian who served as Titan’s major domo gestured for him to enter the Throne Room.

Heart in his throat, and trembling like a kelp forest in a hurricane, X-20 bowed his way into the Throne Room before grovelling at Titan’s feet.

“Oh mighty Titan,” he whined, “your humble servant awaits your orders.”

Titan did not bid him rise, but that was not to be expected.

“I have given you many orders, slave,” Titan sneered. “And every time you have failed to carry them out.”

By the denizens of the deepest trenches, this was it. Titan was going to have him killed.

“Many times I have granted you the continuation of your pathetic life,” Titan continued. “But no more. Your pathetic bungling tires me. I now have the services of a new Surface Agent. One who is uniquely placed to fulfill my orders and finally destroy Marineville, Stingray, and the infernal Troy Tempest!”

He couldn’t help it, X-20 began whimpering, begging, pleading for his life … despite knowing that there was little hope of changing Titan’s mind.

“Silence, fool!” the voice thundered out, and X-20 immediately stopped speaking, his words freezing in his throat. “If I had a mind to kill you, I would not first bring you here to tell you – you would go straight to your assigned doom.”

Titan paused to accept a drink from a servant, calmly drinking as X-20 tried to calm down, to assimilate the news of his continued survival.

“However,” Titan eventually continued, “I will no longer tolerate your incompetence, or your presence. You will remain on the Island of Lemoy and follow the instructions of my new Surface Agent, and should you fail …” Titan glared … “the resources of Titanica will not be deployed to save your miserable carcass. Begone from my sight forever, miserable worm!”

X-20 bowed his way back out of the Throne Room, cringing and mumbling his thanks and praising Titan. Back in the antechamber, an Aquaphibian indicated for him to follow and led him to another room with a large communications suite, and a large container.

The Aquaphibian activated the communications suite and left the room, leaving X-20 to wait for the party on the other end to connect the call.

Finally the screen flared to life, a dark background outlining an even darker silhouette. A Terranean, by the form, and X-20 wondered at the circumstances that allowed Titan to accept working with a Terranean. He looked at the shadowed figure carefully – any information about his mysterious new boss that he could glean might be important. It was impossible to make out any distinguishing features, or gender – X-20 had trouble telling one Terranean from another, anyway. But the silhouette had familiar features, the flared ‘fins’ on the shoulders was almost as familiar to him as his own features. It was the distinctive uniform of the W.A.S.P.s – the hated denizens of Marineville, and the aggressors of numerous undersea encounters.

The voice was artificially modified, and X-20 could not determine any individual attributes. He listened carefully as his new master outlined the plan he had put in motion, and the part that X-20 was to play in it.

It was an ambitious plan, and X-20 was to gain access to the Terraneans main computer centre, and disable certain functions. The box contained a W.A.S.P. uniform, identification documents, security pass, and biomasking ‘fingerprints’ to be worn on the ends of his fingers. Who knew that Terraneans could tell each another apart by the skin patterns on their fingers?

If this disguise did not work, if the security documents did not work X-20 would be captured by the Terraneans. And if they did not kill him as a spy, he would be locked away in one of their prisons, far from the life-giving waters of the oceans.

X-20 had a bad feeling about this.

The bad feeling was justified.

X-20 sat in the small Terranean prison at Marineville, and wondered what had given him away.

The answer came sooner that expected. The leader of the W.A.S.P.s – the Terranean in the ‘hover chair’ – Commander Shore was let into the small room. He eyed X-20 with cold anger. “What have you got to say for yourself, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant was the rank attached to the identity he had been given for this mission. X-20 did not respond.

“Did you know that the Security Guard you attacked died?”

That got a start out of X-20. Someone he had attacked? Died?

“What were you hoping to steal, Lieutenant?”

Oh. That made sense. The identity he had been given to use had attacked and killed someone. X-20 wondered if the new Surface Agent knew that. X-20 still didn't’ say anything.

“Nothing to say for yourself, eh?” Commander Shore eyed him speculatively. “How about we give you a little time to yourself to think about the answers you’re going to give us.”

He turned and motored his way back out the room, the door slamming with dismal finality behind him.

By Terranean standards, his captivity was not by definition, cruel. But Terranean standards and Terranean needs were not the same of those of the undersea races.

He was provided meals three times a day, and he was certain that, by Terranean standards, the food was wholesome and nutritious. Unfortunately it was not the same for him. And while he was given access to plentiful water to drink and bathe, the humans exclusively used fresh water, and treated it with chemicals, all of which burned at him. He was a creature of the oceans, he need the salt.

He was drying. Slowly, and painfully, he was drying.

Each day, Commander Shore came to see if he was prepared to answer the questions to which X-20 had no answers.

Each day, X-20 said nothing. Which was both easier and harder. Easier, because he had less and less strength every day. Harder because everyday the temptation to reveal his true nature and beg for his life grew.

He held his silence, because to do so would mean that Titan would go from not acting to save him, to actively trying to kill him. It was a choice of deaths, but it was X-20’s choice. Finally, here at the end, he was free to make his own choice.

X-20 awoke unexpectedly, feeling – strangely – better than he had ever since being made Surface Agent. Looking around, he discovered he was submerged in a large tank of sea-water, an examination showed that there were several small heavily protected vents that presumably led to the ocean.

One corner of the tank was generously stocked with an artificial garden of seaweed, crustaceans and fish. He fell up on the food ravenously, and once satiated, continued his examination of his surroundings. A large, clear panel was set in one wall, a small plain room with a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs was on the other side, with what looked like an open sided cargo elevator attached to one wall

As watched the door opened and Commander Shore motored in, followed by his daughter; Troy Tempest; Tempest’s companion the Terranean known as ‘Phones’ with the strange devices permanently attached to his head; the accursed Princess Marina, daughter of Aphony of Pacifica; and an unknown Terranean wearing the white clothing that designated him as a Terranean healer.

Shore the elder approached the observation panel and nodded in satisfaction when he saw X-20 watching him. He pointed at X-20 and upwards, then gestured to himself and his companions and upwards again. X-20 understood. They were all to go upwards, and probably whatever was up there, they would be able to talk.

X-20 briefly considered refusing to comply, but ultimately decided that it would be in his best interests to cooperate. For now.

Swimming upwards, he found a large platform with a short ladder attached to the wall next to it. He climbed out and stood watching from behind bars as his captors rode up to his level in the cargo elevator.

Shore motored to the bars and appraised him thoughtfully. X-20 waited.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to realise how sick you were.”

Those were not the words X-20 had expected and he stared, shocked.

“I hope you’re feeling better now?” It was a question.

“Yes, thank you. I feel much better for having been submerged in the ocean’s waters.” His voice was desiccated, harsh from his drying sickness and disuse.

Shore nodded, apparently pleased with the answer. “I trust the foods provided were to your liking. Marina indicated what species would be appropriate, but if there is something more to your taste, I’m sure we can provide it for you.”

Mutely X-20 shook his head.

Shore nodded, satisfied.

“Your disguise was very good,” Shore continued. “Almost perfect, in fact. It was only when you collapsed and the doctors tried to treat you that we discovered that you were weren’t human.”

X-20 waited.

“And your security pass, and identity documents. They were beyond perfect. There was only one way that you could have gotten those – if you were given by someone who already had access to our security system.”

X-20 waited. This was not surprising to him. He had already figured out that the new ‘Surface Agent’ was a traitor within Marineville, even though he didn’t know the Terranean’s identity.

“So it’s very strange that the identity you were using was that of a Lieutenant who is wanted for attempted theft, and murder.”

Shore sat, considering him. The moment stretched out.

“Marina here recognised you.” It was both surprising and not. Before she had been rescued, she had seen him many times as he had reported to Titan. That she had paid enough attention to him to recall him now was … unexpected.

Shore continued. “She filled us in on your history and your … circumstances.”

X-20’s heart sank. He had been hoping that the Terraneans would not discover the exact nature of his past actions. They would know what he had done to act against them. The tiny hope that he had been cautiously nurturing since waking up in the tank abruptly withered to nothing.

He was still doomed.

“I imagine quite a lot of the strange goings on around here might be attributed to your actions.”

X-20 closed his eyes. The bright light was hurting them anyway – less harsh than the sun, but still too much compared to the cool light filtered by the oceans that he was born to.

“Under ordinary circumstances, that would make you a spy.”

Ordinary circumstances? What other circumstances were there for a spy?

“But considering what Marina has told us – that Titan holds you as a slave, that failure to comply would mean your death…” Shore blew out a breath in that curious Terranean way. “Well, I think maybe we could come to an agreement.”

X-20 opened his eyes. An agreement with the Terraneans?

“What kind of agreement?” He almost said Terranean by reflex, but managed to bite the word back in time.

Shore edged closer, the front of his contraption almost touching the bars. “We’ve got a rat in the ranks,” he said. “You’ve been in contact with them. You could help us find them. Help us flush him out.”

X-20 waited. The must want more.

“You’ve been coming in and out of here almost at will. I’d appreciate–” the word had an edge to it, this part was apparently non-negotiable– “it if you would work with our security to plug these holes.”

X-20 waited. Shore continued

“Any information you could give us about Titan – what he knows about us, locations of his bases, who are his allies and enemies, his history. That kind of thing would be invaluable to us.”

“The locations of his bases,” X-20 repeated bitterly. “So you can destroy them. And destroy countless undersea dwellers in the process. You want me to help you to destroy my people. My innocent people.”

“No!” The word came from multiple voices. Shore held up a hand for silence.

“We would never – never – put innocent lives at risk. Not intentionally. If we’ve done harm, it was never our intention.”

“Does the storm intend to fling it’s victims on the rocks? They are no less dead for the lack of intent,” X-20 countered.

Shore sighed, heavily. “I take your point. We have a saying with a similar meaning: ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ But we’ve never made an intentional attack against one of Titan’s bases. Anytime we’ve fought, we’ve blundered into the situation and been fired upon first. If you work with us, we could make sure we stay away from these places. And if we need to – and this is an absolutely last resort – we could, with your information, send in a tactical strike team. Make sure there’s no collateral damage. Hell, we might even be able to avoid killing Titan’s people!”

“And this is all I get from this agreement? A maybe-stay of execution for my people?”

Shore shook his head. “No. Titan’s abandoned you. He doesn’t care if you live to get back to your station, or dies here. How much do you want to bet that if he finds out you’re still alive here at Marineville, he – or his traitor in our ranks – will try to rectify that? We’ll protect you, either way, but it’ll be in your best interests to help us. We could offer you a better quality of life. Help us, and you could stay here, or return to live under the sea, far from Titan’s influence.”

“Titan rules all the world’s oceans. There would be nowhere safe from him.” And didn’t that thought hurt. Marooned for all time on the dry land.

“Titan rules all the world’s oceans. Now. But not with the consent of many of the ruled.” X-20 knew immediately that it was Marina speaking to him, using the telepathy common among her people. With her hands she made the gestures that the Terraneans understood, translating her conversation with them.

“My father, Aphony, Ruler of Pacificia, would free his people from the tyranny of Titan, but for our long pacifism, we lack the weapons and soldiers to do so. Secretly, we stand with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, for to do so openly now would be to invite our destruction. We provide what information we can, but it is limited. Help the W.A.S.P.s – help Pacificia – and I swear by the throne I will one day sit upon that you will always have a place of honour and refuge among the people of Pacificia.”

X-20 stared. A vow by the throne of Pacifica, made by the Princess who would one day be Queen. And not just the promise of refuge – which was a promise not lightly made, for none could truly ward against the great currents; but the promise of a place of honour. That could only mean one thing: a station – a permanent station, for life if he so chose – in the Royal Court.

This was all too much to comprehend. X-20 turned and flung himself back into the ocean water tank that was both his prison and his sanctuary.

As he dove, he heard Tempest indignantly calling out, “Hey!”

“Let him be. He has much to think about, and many emotions that pull at his heart. Let him spend time among the waters that will soothe his body and his mind. The decision that is asked of him is no small matter.”

The waters did not allow the answers given to Marina’s declaration.

“There is no hurry for you to decide. Take what time you need. If you require anything, or wish to speak with us, there is an ‘intercom’ on the wall by the ladder. Push the button and when invited, state your needs. I wish you gentle tides and bountiful harvests.”

And X-20 was alone.

It was days later, when X-20 pushed the button and asked to speak to Commander Shore. He had used the button before to request more food – he had eaten ravenously, unaccustomed to both the extravagant food supply, and inaction.

He waited anxiously, but soon the door opened and the procession – minus the healer – entered the room, as they approached, X-20 indicate the elevator and swam upwards to the platform.

There was an air of excited expectation among the Terraneans as they waited for X-20 to speak.

He took a calming breath.

And made his decision.

Notes:

I had been wanting to write something for Stingray’s 60th Anniversary this year, and as time was ticking away. Finally figured something out!

Something that doesn’t usually get commented on is Titan’s continuous addressing Surface Agent X-20 as ‘slave’, along with his threats of violence against him. The specific tortures and execution methods are lifted directly from John Theydon’s novel ‘Stingray and the Monster’ (republished by Anderson Entertainment as ‘Monster from the Deep’). Except for ‘drying’, that I shamelessly appropriated from May Gibbs’ ‘Little Obelia’ (which is most commonly found in ‘The Complete Adventures of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie’).

I know this doesn't fit the classical definition of 'Whump', but as the starting point was the Whumptober prompt, and you could argue that Surface Agent X-20's existence up to this point IS whump, never mind the psychological turmoil of a slave finding themself suddenly and unexpectedly freed of their master and making decision for themselves ... And yes, I am aware that I am clutching at straws, but they are MY straws, damnit!, and I say they count.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Stingray. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[smg4-unofficial]

Hey SMG4. Mr. Puzzles wears diapers because he was born with severe bladder and bowel incontinence. I read his diary and medical records about him wearing diapers because he was born with severe bladder and bowel incontinence. *give Mr. Puzzles' diary and medical records to SMG4* read it and weep.

//shut the fuck up

//i normally wouldn't say this but knowing what you did to puzzles i won't regret saying this: i'll be celebrating the day you kill yourself ><